


speak low, if you speak love

by dimasilaw



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Hisoka just wants to sleep, M/M, because i am a nerd, including a fuck ton of Shakespeare references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26028142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimasilaw/pseuds/dimasilaw
Summary: Homare wanders into Hisoka’s dorm late at night.And God, he just wants to sleep.But maybe Homare has something to offer...?
Relationships: Arisugawa Homare/Mikage Hisoka
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	speak low, if you speak love

The room smells like lavender essential oil and fresh marshmallows.

Hisoka is wearing his warmest pyjamas, lying in his fluffy bed and getting ready to go to sleep (and awaiting an English Literature test tomorrow, he laments—good God, why did he take that elective, of all things?), when he hears a bang on the door.

“...Ugh.”

He rises from underneath his velvety blanket and opens the door.

It is that guy from his English Literature class who  _ won’t stop  _ quoting Shakespeare, and who believes Shakespeare didn’t write a single bad play, and who has spent the past three weeks advertising his one-man production of  _ Richard III  _ to be performed in his dorm room _.  _

Yes, the guy with uneven mauve-ish hair.

_ Does he cut that at 3 a.m. following a breakdown…? _

Hisoka shakes off that thought. And he isn’t just “that guy”, he’s Arisu. Well, Arisugawa Homare, but Hisoka’s gotten used to nicknaming him. Not that they’re too close or anything—they just hang out sometimes and he helps him pass English Literature.

He’s nice… a bit strange, and a bit too fond of Shakespeare’s histories, but he’s nice.

“...What do you want.” Hisoka rubs something crusty from his eye. He yawns. He knows he looks like a mess, and he doesn’t care. He was going to sleep anyway, and Arisu should know it.

Homare puts a hand on his forehead and leans his body back, like some sort of character in a historical drama about to die of multiple stab wounds...hey, didn’t Hisoka read that play before? “But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?”

Great. Now he’s quoting Shakespeare. In his dorm room. “None. It is nighttime.”

“It is the east, and Hisoka is the sun!” He smiles triumphantly. He’s dressed in nothing but pink shorts and a faded tie-dye shirt. 

“Are you going to come in or am I going to hold this door forever?”

Homare welcomes himself inside, arms outstretched. Hisoka quietly shuts the door behind them. He tries his hardest to sound disgruntled and tired, pulling his face into an exhausted frown. “What do you want from me? ...I’m trying to sleep.”

“My, my, my!” Homare swivels around to face Hisoka against the door, splaying his hand on his chest. He makes a face, as if expecting pity. He cocks his head. “I’m deeply sorry for waking you, my dear Hisoka.”

Something burns in Hisoka’s gut. He isn’t sure what it is. As much as the guy pisses him off sometimes, he’s nice. And he’s handsome. And he’s quite charming.

And he makes him want to read whatever old dead white man is assigned to them in their English Literature class. Whether it is Steinbeck or Shakespeare, Homare makes him want to read and learn too.

Hisoka pulls his sleeve over his face, obscuring his pink cheeks.

“It’s fine. Just tell me what you need.”

Homare clears his throat, then gets down on one knee as if proposing. He grins from ear-to-ear, brighter than a summer’s day. His eyes glitter with what Hisoka judges to be excitement, and his cheeks are burning red. He must be just as flustered as Hisoka is.

“Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service.”

Hisoka hangs his arms by his side and fidgets, rubbing the soft pad of his thumb against the sweaty base of his index finger. He isn’t sure how to respond to this. Sure, he thinks Homare is interesting. Very nice. Very attractive, despite (or even because of) his haircut. But it can’t be real just yet, can it?

“Are you confessing to me, Arisu?”

Homare rises and takes a calm, calculated step toward Hisoka. He hooks his arm around his waist. Hisoka’s stomach burns and his guts rearrange themselves. He’s fairly sure he’s never been redder before. His entire body trembles. Tension pulls at his heart like thin string constricting a piece of fabric. He’s terrified and glad and excited all at once.

“Love is a spirit all compact of fire!” Homare makes a gesture with his free hand and smirks.

“Please...just cut to the chase so I can sleep.”

“Absolutely, I am!” Homare runs a hand through Hisoka’s smooth locks of hair. He pushes his face in close and presses his nose to Hisoka’s. 

Hisoka’s eyes glaze over. He can’t believe this is happening. Yes, he wants to sleep, but he also absolutely wants to kiss this guy’s face off. Such conflict inside of a man!

Homare clears his throat once more. His hand wraps closer around Hisoka’s waist. They are breast-to-breast, both tugging to...no, now Hisoka’s thinking of Shakespeare.  _ Henry VI,  _ was it? Also one of Homare’s favourites. His heartbeat quickens to an unimaginable degree, running a million miles a minute even as it’s bound by the strings of tension. Homare’s deep, full voice snips the string and melts Hisoka’s tender heart. And for the first time tonight, he smiles.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire…” Homare begins.

Hisoka knows this. They’d studied it last semester. “...Doubt that the sun doth move.”

“Doubt truth to be a liar,” Homare says, cupping Hisoka’s cheek. “But never doubt I love.”

He presses a kiss to Hisoka’s lips. Hisoka’s fairly sure he should be reacting right now, but he is completely frozen. First this man gets him to quote  _ Hamlet,  _ then he kisses him? Completely unbelievable! A travesty! 

But Homare’s lips are soft like a feather. And his tongue slides into his mouth with ease. And Homare’s hands are travelling all over his upper body, exploring each contour like little mazes. Finally, Hisoka thinks to return the favour. He hugs Homare’s waist with his two hands and kisses him back. And he kisses him again and again and again and again as tenderly as he possibly can until he’s satisfied, and he pulls away.

Homare winks and rubs his hand on Hisoka’s shoulder. “I can express no kinder sign of love than this kind kiss.”

Hisoka smiles, melting his body into Homare’s. It’s almost as if their bodies were made to meld together. Homare is soft like a marshmallow. He smells like old books and ink, but that’s okay with him. He has an enchanting voice and hideous hair, and that’s okay. “What play is that from?”

Homare lights up. “It is from Cymbeline!”

“Mm...I’ll have to read that sometime. Thank you. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

Homare takes his hand in his and kisses it warmly. “Perhaps we shall discuss this when you are more awake.”

He yawns.

“That’d be a good idea. See you, Arisu.”

Homare nods and slips out of the room like nothing’s happened. Hisoka trudges over to his bed. And for once, he can’t wait to be awake.

Perhaps he’ll go to the one-man production of  _ Richard III  _ as well.

**Author's Note:**

> HA! Spot the Shakespeare reference. As you can tell I’m a bit of a Shakespeare nerd, so here’s a list of all the works referenced:
> 
> 1-ish. “about to die of multiple stab wounds” — Julius Caesar  
> 2\. “But soft...” “It is the east...” — Romeo and Juliet  
> 3\. “Hear my soul speak...” — The Tempest  
> 4\. “Love is a spirit...” — Venus and Adonis  
> 5\. “Breast-to-breast...” — Henry VI, Part 3  
> 6\. “Doubt thou...” — Hamlet  
> 7\. “I can express...” — Cymbeline  
> And of course, Richard III.
> 
> Perhaps I’ll sprinkle in some others next time.
> 
> As always, fuck fascism.


End file.
